


One Day

by Severina



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tv-universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth twirls a little and watches her reflection in the mirror, enjoying the way the full skirt swirls out and then swoops around her knees. The sundress is really too revealing for the weather – there are already goose pimples prickling her arms, and she's not even outside yet – but she doesn't care. She feels… pretty. For the first time in forever, she feels pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day

**Author's Note:**

> Episode 508 never happened la la la. Fic #02 of 03 written for LJ's tv_universe for the prompt, "dressed up" (change the look of a character.)
> 
> * * *

Beth carries the dress in the bottom of her backpack for two months.

When she finally pulls it out, in the bedroom of a farmhouse two weeks after they cross the border into Virginia, the black garbage bag it's wrapped in is covered in a fine layer of dirt. The dress itself is spotless, and she congratulations herself on her foresight. She has to shake out the coating of dust on the bedspread and turn it over before she's willing to lay the dress down, and for a moment she just looks at it in the bright beams of sunlight from the window and wonders that she has come to this moment. That they have made it this far.

There's a stream behind the house and she's given some privacy as she bathes, Michonne standing look-out at the head of the path. The yellow polo and jeans have seen better days, and she winces and wrinkles her nose when they stick to her flesh as she wriggles out of them. She slithers out of her underthings and sets the entire outfit to soak between two rocks at the base of the stream.

The water is cold, but she doesn't mind. She washes her hair three times using the scented bar of soap that Glenn had given her, ducking his head and shyly telling her that he'd been hoarding it for her since Greensboro. A wedding present. 

By the time she's soaped up her body and rinsed her hair a final time she feels almost normal again.

* * *

There's a long mirror hanging on the inside of the closet door, and Beth can't stop looking at herself. If that's vanity, she muses, then so be it. If a girl can't be vain on her wedding day, then when can she, after all?

"I'm sorry you didn't get to wear Mom's dress," Maggie says from somewhere behind her. 

"It's fine," Beth says. Their mother's dress would have actually been Maggie's to wear, as the eldest, though it was Beth who had often pulled it out of the wardrobe as a little girl and held it up to her body, imagining herself swathed in all that ribbon and lace. Now that she's older she can't imagine what either she or Maggie would have actually done about all that taffeta. Possibly deconstructed it and gotten two wedding dresses out of it. The thought makes her smile.

"I wish we could have found an actual wedding dress, though," Maggie continues. "Something white, at least."

"Yellow's my favourite colour, anyway." Beth twirls a little and watches her reflection in the mirror, enjoying the way the full skirt swirls out and then swoops around her knees. The sundress is really too revealing for the weather – there are already goose pimples prickling her arms, and she's not even outside yet – but she doesn't care. She feels… pretty. For the first time in forever, she feels pretty.

"It might not be too late to find a veil," Maggie says. "I can check the attic here—"

"Maggie, quit frettin'," Beth says. She turns away from the mirror to cross the room, to take Maggie's hands in hers. "I got my family with me and I'm marryin' the man I love today. What more can I possibly need?"

Maggie's hands tighten on hers, the grip almost painful. "Daddy would've been so proud."

"Daddy would've given Daryl a lecture on keepin' his little girl safe," Beth says with a laugh, "just like he did with Glenn." At Maggie's wide eyes, she tilts her head. "Oh, don't think I didn't hear all about Daddy takin' that long walk with Glenn just before you two got hitched. What did you think he was doin', givin' him wedding night tips?"

"Beth!"

"Well, I'm just sayin'."

Maggie shakes her head but releases her hands to lean back on the dresser. "I think Daddy knew that his little girls could take care of themselves."

They don't talk about those months apart, about Terminus or Grady. They don't talk about how Maggie can hardly bear to let Glenn out of her sight, or how Daryl always knows exactly where Beth is at any given moment. They all have scars from their time apart, and they're all still learning how to live with them. 

They can take care of themselves, but they're so much better together.

Beth smiles softly, and knows that Maggie is right. Hershel would be proud.

She looks away when Maggie wipes surreptitiously at her eyes, catches sight of the two of them in the mirror. Next to Maggie's ragged and patched up clothing, Beth thinks she looks like someone from another time, a woman from another land suddenly dropped into this apocalyptic landscape. 

She tugs up on the scooped neck of the dress, which shows more of her cleavage than she's shown since… well… ever, and is suddenly struck with nerves. Her hand drifts to her hair and the wildflowers braided into the long strands. "What if Daryl doesn't like it?" she asks softly.

She hears Maggie snort behind her. "You look like a fairy princess," she says. "What's not to like?"

"Yeah, but—" Beth bites at her bottom lip. Was it even right to get all gussied up when the world was… gone? Daryl is used to the rough and tumble girl in the dirty polo, not… whoever she is now. She's not sure she even recognizes herself.

"No buts," Maggie says. "You look beautiful. Daryl's not going to know what hit him."

Since that's sort of what she's worried about, Beth doesn't exactly take comfort from the words. But then she turns when Maggie touches her shoulder, finds her sister grinning. "Can you keep a secret?" Maggie asks. "I'm not supposed to say anything but--"

"Spill!"

"Daryl cut his hair!" Maggie says.

Beth can't help the gasp that escapes from her lips, and her face must show her dismay because Maggie quickly holds up a hand. "Now don't worry, he's not out there lookin' like a boy scout or nothin'. It's just a trim. And…" she leans forward conspiratorially, "he's got a new shirt. Retired the wings for the day and everything."

"He did?"

"You're not the only one getting prettified today, Bethie," Maggie tells her. Beth relaxes and leans in when Maggie wraps an arm around her. "Now come on. Let's get you married before Father G gets spooked by the wind or somethin' and runs off. Remember last time? We had to chase him for nearly a mile before we caught up!"

Beth laughs, and lets Maggie lead her toward the door. But she steals a final glance at the mirror, blinks at the reflection of the pretty girl in a yellow sundress with daisies twined in her braid. Her, as much as the skinny girl in jeans with a knife strapped to her hip. 

She remembers a conversation on a wooden porch, with the taste of moonshine on her tongue. Maybe there won't be picnics and potluck dinners and children running through the fields. But she can have this day, and so can Daryl. She can be that other girl the other three hundred and sixty four days of the year. 

Today, she's going to be a bride.


End file.
